Just a flesh wound
by renrenren3
Summary: In which Beckett gets hurt and Castle overreacts.


Written for prompt 64 (dialogue prompt: "Is that blood?") of maritombola; it's like the Italian version of bingo, only better. I'm writing so much in this fandom, I don't even know. They're all so much fun.

-x-

It happened in a flash. One minute they were standing in the witness's living room and making routine inquiries, the next he was blatantly contradicting himself on his alibi.

Beckett and Castle shared a look as they both reached the same conclusion. The case might not be so difficult to solve after all. Their witness (correction: suspect-slash-culprit) seemed to share that thought since he bolted towards the door shoving Beckett aside.

She was caught off guard and fell down against a potted plant, landing in a shower of leaves and dirt and broken vases. In a second she was back on her feet, calling for backup and gesturing for Castle to follow her as she ran after their man.

It was an old building and the elevator was broken. Castle had complained through all six flights of stairs on their way up but now it turned out it was a strategic advantage. The man had to go down the stairs, and Beckett could still catch up with him. She could hear the suspect's heavy footsteps only a couple of floors below. Beckett took the steps two at a time, leaving her favorite writer behind.

To his credit, the suspect was quicker than she'd have given him credit for. Despite a beer gut and the fact that he probably hadn't left his couch for the past ten years except to kill his cousin, he managed to make it outside of the building before Beckett tackled him to the floor and handcuffed him.

Uniforms showed up at the same time as Castle emerged from the building's door, looking slightly out of breath. He pouted when he saw that everything was over already.

"Out of shape, Castle?" Beckett teased him, keeping an eye on their subject who was being hauled away in a police car.

Castle was about to reply when his gaze landed on Beckett's arm. "Oh. My. God," he said. Maybe Beckett's been hanging around him for too long, because she definitely heard full stops here. "_Is that_ _blood_?"

Beckett looked down and, sure enough, there was a long thin gash on her forearm. "Must have been from when I fell down and that pot broke," she said, picking gingerly at her torn shirt. She hadn't even noticed until Castle had pointed it out. "It doesn't hurt much."

"You're bleeding," Castle insisted. He looked at her as if she was out of her mind, peering at her arm, then started fishing in his pockets. "Do you have a handkerchief? We need to bandage it until the ambulance gets here!"

Beckett stared at him. "No, I don't have a handkerchief," she deadpanned. "I don't need one, it's already stopped bleeding. And anyway there's no ambulance!"

"Right, I need to call an ambulance," Castle mumbled, grabbing his blackberry.

"Ambulance? Is everything okay?"

Now Ryan and Esposito had arrived too, and before Beckett could explain that this was just another instance of Castle's over-active imagination he had already grabbed Ryan by his shoulders. "We need to get Beckett to a hospital, now!"

Ryan and Esposito gave her matching concerned looks and she felt like slapping Castle for making everyone worry for no reason at all.

"Guys, I'm fine," she exclaimed, raising her arm. "It's just a scratch, see? Castle, stop blowing things out of proportion."

Esposito took one good look and sighed with relief. "We'll have a look at his apartment, in case he left the murder weapon around. You coming?" he added, slapping Ryan's shoulder.

Ryan glanced from Beckett to Esposito to Castle, who was still looking at Beckett as if she might faint at any moment.

"If I was wearing a tie," Castle said, frowning, "I could use the tie as a bandage." Beckett snorted.

"You should bandage that, though," Ryan told Beckett. He produced a large handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the detective. "Here."

Esposito raised an eyebrow at this and Ryan looked sheepish. "My mum used not to let me out of the house if I didn't have my handkerchief," he explained.

"I'm fine, really," Beckett insisted, without sounding much convinced. Castle ignored her. "I've got a first-aid kit at the office."

Castle snatched the handkerchief and opened it with a flourish, folding it into a thin stripe. "I should remember to always bring a handkerchief around," he muttered to himself.

Ryan and Esposito left, with Ryan shooting Beckett one last look over his shoulder, and Beckett scowled. "You need to stop being so dramatic about everything," she told Castle. "I'm fine, look, it's not bleeding any more. The worst part is the shirt," she added with a touch of regret. She was used not to get attached to her clothes because of accidents like this, but she liked that shirt.

Castle looked at her with a face like the world's most put-upon rescue dog. "Please let me bandage your wound," he said, holding up Ryan's handkerchief. "I'll buy you a new shirt if you want to. Just, please."

"Fine," Beckett sighed. She held up her arm. "Just for the record, though, I'm _not_ bleeding to death."

"As you say," Castle replied, wrapping the makeshift bandage carefully over the tattered remains of her shirtsleeve.


End file.
